The Patient
“But it is awfully kind of you, Ellen.”
Ellen Deal shook her head.
“No,” she answered. “I shall like it. Since I came out West with you and
the Camp Fire girls, Mrs. Burton, I have been feeling that perhaps I was
here under false pretenses. You see I am older than the other girls, and
came partly because Dr. Sylvia told me I might be useful to you. Except
for showing you a few first aid remedies I have not been useful at all. I
don’t feel that I am a particularly agreeable companion, so I add nothing
to the pleasure of the Camp Fire in that way.”
“Nonsense,” the Camp Fire guardian responded. Nevertheless a slight pang
of self-reproach assailed her. Had she allowed Ellen Deal to feel that
she was of less interest to the Camp Fire group than the other girls? It
was true that Ellen was older, that she was midway between the age of a
Camp Fire girl and a possible guardian. But, more than this, she seemed
to have one of the hard and matter-of-fact natures it is always difficult
to reach. Romance, the dreams and desires that are a part of nearly every
life, hardly appeared to touch Ellen; or if they did at least she gave no
sign. In their months together amid perhaps as beautiful and
extraordinary scenery as there is anywhere in the world, Ellen had showed
no enthusiasm; in her life with the Camp Fire girls, no especial
affection except, perhaps, in friendship with Alice Ashton.
“However, she was looking in a great deal better health,” Mrs. Burton
reflected, and the present moment was scarcely the time for introspection
by either of them.
“Just the same it is good of you, Ellen, besides not another one of us
would be equal to the task. But if it is too much for you, you must let
us know. Peggy is going with you now and I’ll drive over in the morning
to see how you are getting on.”
“Thank you,” Ellen replied gratefully. Yet she would like to have said so
much more—to have told Mrs. Burton how greatly she appreciated her
kindness in allowing her, an entire stranger, to be one of her group of
Camp Fire girls and also her guest for the past three months. However,
words never came easily to her, for she was not one of the fortunate
persons who can make themselves charming by the simple gift of
expression, which may or may not be sincere.
Then she went away to pack her bag with a few necessary articles for the
work ahead of her.
It was to Ellen Deal that Dan Webster had first confided the difficult
position of their unexpected guest. Immediately Ellen had suggested that
she go with the new girl to her camp and there see what should be done.
Besides the fact of her brother’s illness, the girl herself would require
looking after for a few days, if not for a longer time.
Later Mrs. Webster and Mrs. Burton had given a more or less enforced
consents since, under the circumstances, there seemed nothing else to be
done.
“Ellen certainly looks competent,” Polly decided at this moment, watching
her move away. Her figure was small and neat, suggesting a great deal of
reserve strength; her sandy hair had grown a shade brighter in tone from
her months in the sunshine and her always bright color, brighter. It was
a pity that she appeared so severe and critical.
This, also, was Marta Clark’s impression, riding beside Ellen, Dan and
Peggy occupying the front seat of the wagon which the Camp Fire party
ordinarily used for carrying provisions.
Naturally Marta felt under deep obligations to the strange young woman
beside her, yet she would like to have been able to prepare her for
certain revelations ahead.
Ellen looked so scrupulously tidy. Then Marta knew the Camp Fire ideals
and training which Ellen had added to her nursing ones. And her own
housekeeping left so much to be desired. In fact Marta realized that she
was careless, and her brother equally so. How would Miss Deal survive for
even a few days with them, in spite of her spirit of self-sacrifice?
Certainly Marta hated to accept so great a favor as the care of herself
and her brother must represent. Yet, she too appreciated the fact that
there seemed nothing else to be done.
The ride did not occupy half an hour, Marta naturally directing the way.
Nevertheless it was nearly ten o’clock in the morning before the little
party reached the new camp.
Two tents were situated in a small clearing at the foot of a rocky hill.
Near them was the remains of a camp fire and not far away a litter of old
papers and tin cans. In front of one tent there was an invalid’s chair
and also a cot. Yet neither of them were occupied.
“I wonder where Rob can be,” Marta said, trying to conceal her evident
nervousness from the three strangers.
She need scarcely have asked the question. The moment the wagon stopped,
a tall, abnormally thin young fellow came quickly toward them, evidently
having heard their approach from some distance off. He was breathless and
the color was burning crimson on his high cheek bones. He looked like
Marta except that he was handsomer, for his features were more regular,
although the brother and sister had nearly the same coloring.
He bowed politely enough to the strangers in the little party. But
afterwards, something, perhaps his own illness and weakness, seemed to
destroy his self-control.
“Where have you been, Marta? What has happened? I have been searching for
you ever since six o’clock. I wakened to find you gone, and after waiting
an hour for you to come back I thought, or rather I could not think, what
had become of you. You are considerate not to have left me a message.”
There was an angry sarcasm in the young man’s voice and manner which was
extraordinarily out of place under the circumstances. Dan felt so sorry
for the girl with them, that he would like to have settled with her
brother, except for the apparent fact of his illness. But a high temper
was evidently a family characteristic. Dan recalled Marta’s mentioning
that she and her brother were from Kentucky.
But, even while he was speaking, the young fellow had to grasp hold of
the wagon for support.
Marta was trying to explain to him, when Ellen Deal climbed quietly out.
“You are not strong enough to be on your feet any longer; you must have
been walking about for several hours, when you know you are not expected
to take any exercise,” she said authoritatively. Then, without the least
hesitation or embarrassment, she took the perfectly strange young man by
the elbow and led him to his chair. He accompanied her without a protest.
Afterwards, while Dan and Peggy were helping Marta to alight from the
wagon, Ellen tried to make him understand what had occurred.
Secretly Rob Clark was both ashamed and amused by the situation—ashamed
of his own exhibition of temper, for he was good-natured on most
occasions. But also he was amused by the strange young woman’s immediate
command of him. However he really was too weak to protest and, after
discovering his sister’s injury, grateful to the newcomer beyond his
present strength to express.
A short time after Ellen was in complete command, both of the situation
and her two patients.
Marta was stretched on the cot in front of the tent and her brother had
not been allowed to move from his chair.
With Peggy’s and Dan’s aid a fresh fire had been built and beef tea fed
the invalid, who confessed to having had no breakfast because of his
anxiety. Also the confusion inside the tent had been a little
straightened out, although Dan and Peggy were obliged to leave when they
might still have been useful.
However, they, too, were under Ellen’s command. She insisted that they
drive over to the big hotel not far away in order to secure the advice of
a physician. He was to be asked to come at once.
And seeing them depart, promising to return next day, Marta was not sure
whether she was sorry or glad of the results of her own impertinence and
the accident due to it. These months alone with her brother had been very
depressing. They had no friends in the West and now, perhaps, if she
behaved herself, the Camp Fire girls might be kind to her.